Pool Shark
by K. E. Hinman
Summary: Ellie takes a nosedive into the world of drugs. Takes place after Back In Black.
1. Author's Note

**Author's Note/Disclaimer**

I do not own _Degrassi: The Next Generation_ or any of its characters. Nor do I own any songs I may mention and/or quote in the following text. What I do own is this fan fiction's plot and any potential new characters I may include in this story.

Please also be advised that what you are about to read may contain extremely offensive language, sexual themes, drug use and/or violence. Before you submit rude comments, please be aware that none of the distasteful behavior that may appear in this fan fiction reflects my own opinions or actions in any way.

Thank you for reading!

-K. E. Hinman


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_Lyin' in my plastic bed,__  
__Thinkin' how things weren't so cool to me.__  
__My baby likes to shoot pool, __  
__I like lyin' naked in my bedroom.__  
__Tyin' on the dinosaur tonight,__  
__It used to be so cool too._

_Now I've got the needle,__  
__And I can shake,__  
__But I can't breath.__  
__I take it away, but I want more and more.__  
__One day I'm gonna lose the war._

**1.**

It started out as a tiny little line, a half an inch in length. But no, this was not enough for me. It had to be larger like everything else in my life: my mom, my dad…Sean. And it had to be just as precious and hurt just as much.

After what seemed like a lifetime, crimson finally appeared from beneath the surface of my colorless skin. I sighed in relief as a long bubble of blood slowly chased the hardware razor I was sliding across the pale underside of my left arm. The line was now two inches long, satisfying my desire. Sighing, with a steady hand, I carefully cut two more incisions to connect it to. The end result was a dripping, zigzag wound that closely resembled an uncanny capital 'N'. How beautiful.

I glanced at my watch halfheartedly as I padded out of the bathroom in my Happy Bunny slippers and into the kitchen in the house Sean and I used to share. 11:30 AM and I was still wearing my pajamas. _Great job, Nash. It's Saturday afternoon and you're still sitting in this dump._ What a life. Thank God I was going to Jay's later to watch movies.

With little effort, I hit the switch on my ancient, sorry excuse for a coffee maker and began to pour cereal into the biggest cereal bowl I could find. _Plink! _A fat mealworm landed at the bottom of my bowl, writhing amongst the colorful marshmallows, clearly stirred by the fall. I tilted my head back and sighed in frustration. The house seemed to be teeming with insects for those past few weeks: in the bathroom, under the sofa and now in my food. That was just what I needed on a day like this. Frustrated, I gingerly scanned through the number list tacked onto the kitchen's wood paneled wall, searching for Andrew "The Insect Annihilator" Keene's phone number. I thought the exterminator had come by months ago. Sean—

"_Ahh! Kill it, Sean! Kill it!"_

_Sean lazily poked his head out from behind the bedroom door. "What are you talking about?" he asked._

_He began to giggle when he saw me standing on the ottoman in the living room. I was clutching onto the ceiling fan for dear life, a humongous cockroach directly below me on the carpet. I suppose I was making a spectacle of myself. The giggles graduated to spastic laughter; very un-Sean-like._

_I, on the other hand, was infuriated. My only concern was the creep crawly on the floor and whether or not he was going to stomp on it. "It's not funny!"_

"_If…you…could…see…yourself!" he half-panted, half-laughed, red in the face._

_And that's when I started laughing too._

That was right. Sean was supposed to call the Mr. Keene the day he left for Wasaga and I had completely forgotten about it amongst all of the frustration. Great.

I stared down at my injured arm. The red mess had trailed itself down towards my hand and I was still bleeding a great deal. I quickly wet an old dishcloth and pressed it to the cut, only stopping a moment to look at the deep scar tissue surrounding it. Three of them resembled letters that spelled out a rather jagged SEA, the newest cut completing it.

Sean's name was carved into my left wrist.

**2.**

_RRRRRING! _

_RRRRRING! _

_RRRRRING!_

I opened my eyes, startled by the noise. Still groggy from my short nap on the couch, I forced myself to sit upright and look down at the phone in its charger. The name on the caller ID made my stomach turn apprehensively. Nevertheless, I pressed it against my hot cheek and offered her a miserable hello.

"Ellie? Hi, baby, it's Mom," the voice on the other end chirped in a briskly cheerful voice. _God, Mom, you can kill the superficial act, because it's not working._

"Hey. What's going on?" I asked innocently.

That's when my mother returned from Planet Pretend-Everything-is-Okay. "Nothing's 'going on', Eleanor. What, I can't call my only daughter to see how she's doing?" she asked in a rather boisterous way. _There_ was the Grace Nash I knew.

Irritated, I twirled one of my long auburn braids around my pointer finger and sighed. "Sorry. I'm just surprised you called; I thought you were at work."

"Work? _Work shmerk! _That's why I called, to tell you I quit."

I was taken aback. "You did _what_?"

"I know it sounds ridiculous, but with all of these group therapy sessions and remodeling the house, I have no time."

That wasn't the point. "How are you gonna _live_, Mom? You need to pay for groceries and gas for the car and–" _And my rent._

"Do you think we're completely broke? You know your father has us taken care of, sweetheart. We are going to be fine," she said.

"Mom, what do you mean by 'we'?"

And then she brought out the big guns, slowly enunciating every word as if she were lecturing a small child: "Ellie, I've been doing very well. I've been sober for months. I haven't missed any AA meetings. There's not even a single _wine cooler_ in this house. You've been making wonderful progress on your own, but I think it's about time that you came home, honey. I miss you."

I almost dropped the phone. "Come home? I-I don't think I can do that, Mom. Not yet."

"Why not?" She was cross.

"I'm not just not ready to. I'm not ready for–" I couldn't get the words out. "Sean just left, Mom, and things haven't been going too great. I need more time. We both do."

I could hear her sighing on the other line. I imagined her sitting at the wooden coffee table, a bottle of opened vodka in front of her. Still I could not see her as anything but a drunk. She suggested that we should make a deal.

"What do you mean?"

"If you move back in," she said. "I'll buy you that guitar you want. That Gibson–"

My greedy inner-child wanted to scream, "A Gibson Les Paul Supreme! Okay, okay, I'll come home!" But big girl Ellie wasn't buying it.

"So now you're…_bribing _me, Mom? You really think getting me a guitar can just–just make everything okay?" I asked. Tears had begun to slide down my face.

Despite my pain, my mother maintained her pseudo-happy state. "No. Just consider it a welcome home present."

I sighed, debating whether or not I should trust her. I knew I couldn't. I knew if I came home, nothing would change. Dad would still be on his peacekeeping mission, Sean would still be down in Wasaga and Mom would be nursing a Smirnoff by Sunday. Change didn't know Ellie Nash.

"You took _your_ time," I said firmly, "and now I need mine. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get ready. Some friends are expecting me over later."

"Eleanor, you are not going to avoid this. You can't live in that shithole forever, you know. You need me. I am your mother for god's sake!"

"I love you, Mom, but you can't help me right now," I said flatly before placing the phone back in the charger.

**3.**

"If you don't give me some of those cookies, Jay, I will kill you," Alex said from her seat on the pool table in Jay's smoke filled basement. They had both shared a dime bag of pot earlier and she had what she called "the major munchies".

I lounged contently in front of the crappy TV set, a bowl of freshly buttered popcorn sitting between my crossed legs. _Child's Play_'s theme song boomed through the stolen Bose speakers Jay had hooked up to the shitty old Sony and I couldn't help but giggle when I saw the face of the redheaded killer doll. I, Ellie Nash, a girl who appreciated fine arts, was watching a cheesy movie about a possessed children's toy.

Smirking, Jay hid the package of Doublestuf Oreos behind his back, a vicious Alex swatting him playfully and laughing hysterically at the same time. I heard the bag of cookies drop to the ground. Jay gently swung his girlfriend on top of the pool table. A few stray billiard balls began rolling away as the two kissed passionately.

I looked up from my spot on the stained overstuffed loveseat and huffed. _Yes, that's right, get all worked up on what was supposed to be our movie night._

"Uh, Jay, if you haven't noticed, you have _company_." Alex told him in a singsong voice, still lying with him on the green table. Jay pretended he didn't hear and continued to kiss Alex up and down her neck.

"I'm fine," I hissed. Annoyed, I changed the channel to an old episode of _Full House._

Alex pushed Jay away and yanked the popcorn bowl away from my, shoving some of the popped kernels into her mouth. "Talk to me, kid," she said mid-crunch.

"It's nothing," I said. "Really."

Jay threw a throw pillow in my face. "Bullshit, Nash. No one goes 'Oh, it's nothing really' unless it's something. So spill it. You miss Cameron, eh?"

I sighed. "It's not just that."

"What is it then?" Alex asked.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Whatever, I get it. I've gotta piss." Jay trudged up the creaking wooden stairs to the bathroom.

Alex rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's typical mannerisms. "He went through a lot of shit, Ellie. He saw someone die. Hell, he might even be responsible for it. I mean, that's more traumatizing than when I first walked into Jay's room and found his centerfold collection hanging on the ceiling."

"I know. But it's not just all Sean, you know. My mom called me this afternoon." I admitted.

"Oh boy," Alex said, feigning joy.

"Yeah. She says she's been sober a long time and wants me to move back in. Actually, she more or less tried to buy me off; she offered to get me a Les Paul if I came back."

Alex shook her head and said sadly, "Never trust an alcoholic, Nash. My real dad was one for years until he beat the shit out of my mom and got locked up for it. Hasn't been the same since. I haven't talked to the bastard since I was nine."

Not knowing what else to do, I pulled Alex into an embrace and laughed when I heard her pretend to gag.

"You tell anyone I just did that, I'll cut you into deli slices, Nash!" Alex kidded. She gave me a playful punch on the shoulder to emphasize her point. When I hit her back with my left fist, my fishnet sleeve fell down, revealing my scarred wrist.

Alex seemed concerned in some weird way. "W-what did you _do_, Ellie?"

No response.

"Did you do this to yourself?" Alex asked in a whisper, pulling down the rest of my sleeve. Alex traced with her fingertips the pink and white scar tissue that decorated my arm and wrist. I winced in pain as she touched the newest incision. "Is this supposed to say 'SEAN'?"

I nodded, tears falling down my cheeks as she looked down at my exposed arm. The secret was out.

"This is really bad," she said calmly, pointing at the 'N' cut. "Look how deep they are. I think this one is infected, Ellie. It's all red and swollen."

Still embarrassed and shocked, I continued to cry and put my sleeve back in place. Why did Alex, of all people, have to find out that I relapsed, let alone know I did this to myself to begin with? I felt as if her whole world was spiraling, crushing me beneath the weight of my problems. And now Alex knew.

"When I said I'd cut you into deli slices, I would have never though you'd beat me to it." When she saw her little attempt to cheer me up hadn't worked she said, "I'm sorry, that was a fucked up thing to say."

"I'm not crazy, Alex," I dried my eyes on my shirt. "Things have just been really hard lately with my dad being away, my mom being in rehab and…well, Sean. I'm falling apart—"

"So you though you'd help it along by _butchering your arms_?"

"It's not like that!" I fell back on Jay's moldy couch and pressed the throw pillow against my face in frustration.

Alex sighed, lifted up a corner of the pillow and looked down at me. "You know you don't have to put up with the bullshit in your life. Do something about it. Write Sean a letter, get a job, and tell your mom she's a bitch. I don't know, do whatever it takes but don't do this shit."

"Don't do _what_ shit?" Jay's voice and the heavy sound of footsteps on the stairs silenced Alex. He carried a six-pack and a giant bag of Lays.

"None of your damn business." Alex smirked.

I tossed the pillow aside and tried to smile, play it up so my friends wouldn't have a crummy time. Maybe Alex was right. I could make amends with the people who hurt me and get on with my life.

_This is independence, right, El? Then you've got to do just that._

Jay put down the beers and stared at the TV screen for a long time. He seemed entranced by _Full House_, especially when one of the characters cracked a joke at Jesse's obsession with his hair. Jay finally asked, "What the hell is this?"

"We weren't watching TV," I said with a grin. "We were talking about my oh-so-important problems, remember?"

"Ha-ha. You're a comedian," Jay said. He opened one of the beers and took a long gulp.

"Oh, Jay, sweetheart?"

"What, babe?"

Alex told him dully, "If you don't give me some of those chips, I will kill you."

**Next chapter: Alex brings Ellie a present; Ellie's mom tries to further convince her to come home. I accept constructive criticism very well, but I don't accept flat-out impoliteness. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**1.**

"What is that?"

Alex sat herself next to Jay and me on the musty sofa in my living room and fingered the plastic bag in her hands. She stared at me, her head cocked to one side. Her incredulous kohl-rimmed eyes full of skepticism, she made the same confused face she put on that one time I played my Death Cab for Cutie CD for her.

She slapped the little baggie down onto the oak coffee table between us. "Skag," she said snidely.

_What the hell is skag_? I was even more perplexed. "W-what?"

"Skag. Dope, smack, blow, crank, junk, stuff." Jay told me. "Call it whatever you want, it's still the same shit."

I picked up the dime bag and curiously fondled the weight of the delicate, soft white powder through the plastic. It could have easily been baby powder or baking soda. But as soon as Jay had elaborated on the street names, I knew it wasn't a common household product.

"Heroin," I said faintly, still fondling the bag. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Of course not."

Heroin! Alex and Jay brought me heroin! And they were being as casual as they possibly could. It was my turn to stare in disbelief.

"Okay, Alex, when you told me you were going to bring me a present today to cheer me up," I said. "I expected like a CD or a plate of brownies or something–never drugs!"

Alex snorted and rolled her eyes. "I don't see what your problem is. I've done it a few times before; it's not that big of a deal if you do it in a group."

I was enraged and my mouth suddenly lost all correlation with my brain. "Not that big of a deal? It's an addictive drug, Alex! Do you think I would ever stoop as low as you? Just because I'm going through some rough times you think I'm gonna do _drugs_? Well, you're clearly mistaken!"

"Got a hand mirror?" Jay asked. He was clearly avoiding my point.

"For what!"

He gave me a look and quickly searched through his coat pockets. "Well, it's not like I have any syringes on me–"

I shot up from my seat. _Plop!_ The heroin bag dropped to the floor. "Forget it. This is insane."

Angrily, I handed Jay his Etnies and Alex her tattered jacket. I didn't need this, not from two good friends. I had my cutting and notebook. And as far as I was concerned, that was all I needed in life. I didn't need my fucking co-op or my parents or my pussy excuse for a boyfriend or anything. And I most certainly didn't need to snort smack with a juvenile delinquent and his bitch.

"What, so you're kicking us out?" Alex yelled.

I swung the door open forcefully, displaying a sort of power I had never felt before. "Yeah." I said. "I am."

As Jay slinked past us to get into his car, Alex glared at me. I was so sure she was going to take a swing at me. But she didn't.

"I didn't want to get you pissed off, Ellie. I was just trying to help you out," she said disappointedly. Alex slipped on her coat. "But again, you managed to fuck things up. It must be a goddamn hobby of yours."

Before what she had said had time to sink it, the door slammed violently and I soon heard Jay's SUV pull out of driveway. I peeked through the blinds. When I saw them accelerate onto the main road, my eyes began to tear. I lost my balance and sank down to the floor in a frustrated heap. Her words replayed in my head again and again:

_But again, you managed to fuck things up._

Again? What was she referring to? What had I done in the past that was so screwed up? She had to have meant the cutting. Other than that she had nothing on me; we hadn't been friends for more than a few months. And she was right. My self-injuring habits might have soothed my pain momentarily, but looking at the big picture, it didn't do anything beneficial. It only provided me with more suffering and agony to hide.

I inched my way over to the couch and kneeled down to the ground and retrieved the abandoned dime bag. Contentedly, I relished in its light and feathery consistency between my thumb and index finger.

Without even realizing it, I had opened the bag. _Careful. Gentle._ I cautiously put it up to my nose. It was odorless. _Should I taste it? _I decided not to, fearing it would take affect. Dipping a finger in, I stroked the powder like a small animal; it was much softer and finer than I had anticipated, almost comforting.

Almost inviting.

**2.**

Ashley pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from her messenger bag, ripped it down the middle and held out one of the halves to me.

"Want some?"

I took it, smiled graciously and sat next to her on Degrassi's front steps. I was very glad to have had a friend like Ashley; I forgot to pack a lunch in all of the mayhem. I sat quietly for a moment, gazing at a small posse of grade eight boys sitting at one of the picnic tables. Each had a skateboard and a Lunchable. The irony briefly amused me.

"Ellie, is something wrong?" Ashley asked gently. Her face showed genuine concern.

Should I tell her that I relapsed? Should I tell her my drunkard of a mom wants me back? Should I tell her I felt as if I did nothing for Sean? Should I tell her I hadn't heard from my father in weeks? Should I tell her one of my good friends tried to get me to take heroin?

"Ash?"

"Mmhmm?"

I dropped a bomb: "Have you ever taken drugs?"

_Duh!_ I already knew the answer to that question. What was I thinking? Ashley was Little Miss Good Girl: a virgin, a writer, an honor roll student. She couldn't have—

"Once," was her coy response.

I was surprised at her. "You did. Really?"

Ashley bit into her half of the PB&J, chewed, swallowed and sighed. "It's not that I'm proud of it. It was nearly three years ago."

"Oh," I said. "Well, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened?"

"I had this party at my house a few summers ago and JT Yorke brought an ecstasy pill. Well, Sean found him and Toby upstairs with it so he brought it down to me and told me to put it down the kitchen sink—"

"But you didn't."

She shook her head, remembering. "No. I didn't. I took it."

I was fascinated. Ashley and ecstasy didn't belong in a sentence together. "Was it what you expected?"

She spoke blissfully. "I felt pretty amazing. Like everyone loved me and I could taste the music and touch light. It was absolute euphoria, but…it was awful."

"Why?"

"I more or less called Paige a wench." Ashley admitted. "She made my life a living hell from then on. Then I cut off all of my hair and distanced myself from everyone."

"Wow."

Ashley nudged me with her shoulder. "Is there any particular reason you asked? You aren't a junkie, are you, Nash?" she asked playfully.

A tall shadow hung over us. When I looked up, I was face-to-face with the one person I didn't want to face at that moment.

"Well, I'd certainly like to hope my daughter isn't on drugs," said my mom pleasantly.

"_M-mom?_"

Grace Nash had been abducted by aliens and swapped with a modern-day June Cleaver: ironed clothes, lipstick, tousled hair. She had a smile on her face and a brown paper bag in her hand. I wasn't in the least bit impressed. "I thought I'd stop by and bring you lunch, baby. California rolls and extra wasabi–your favorite."

I gave her a grim face and held up my pathetic sandwich fragment. "I'm covered thanks."

Ashley tried to make up for my rude behavior. She said, "Nice to see you, Mrs. Nash. You look really nice."

"Why, thank you, Ashley. My friend Elaine's a hairdresser." My mom fluffed her newly-waved locks. "It's called a body wave."

"Well, it looks great on you." Ashley smiled and sat up. "I'll see you later. I should go before I'm late for history. It was great to see you again."

As soon as Ashley left, all hell broke lose.

"Why are you _really_ here, Mom?"

She didn't put on the happy mask this time. "I was on the Gibson web site today. And I went to the bank—"

I wasn't satisfied. She was still playing the game. I stood up and looked her in the eyes. She was going to listen to me this time.

"I am not coming home, Mom." I said firmly. "I'm not coming home and you have to deal with that. Dad only has six more months, let him be your backbone, not me. Because I'm not doing it anymore. I'm not your slave; I am your daughter."

I knew she hadn't been drinking when I saw the tears in the corners of her eyes. Passively Drunk Grace Nash was spiteful. June Cleaver Grace Nash was happy-go-lucky. When she didn't dispute any further, I knew she was my mother again. But that was not enough for me. Nothing was ever enough for Ellie Nash.

"Please go home and stop putting this on me. I don't need you anymore," I sobbed. I knew she would probably stop by the liquor store on her way home after this. I tried my hardest not to care.

She nodded solemnly and walked out into the parking lot, still clutching my bag of sushi.

**3.**

_Do anything but cut. Do anything but cut._

I didn't care anymore.

With a violent heave, I thrust the oak coffee table into the wall, leaving a heavy dent in the cheap wood-paneling. I tossed the dishes in the air as if they were Frisbees and watched in satiation as they sailed through the air and smashed against the linoleum flooring, breaking into millions of little shards. I yelled and screamed and thrashed and cried until my lungs felt raw.

_Do anything but cut. Anything, anything._

The dime bag.

It caught my eye, sitting invitingly on the kitchen table, pure and simple. Untouched. It could free me. More of Alex's words resounded in my head:

_You know you don't have to put up with the bullshit in your life. Do something about it._

I could easily boil it, dig up a needle from somewhere—no, no that wasn't about to happen. Why on Earth would I have a syringe anyway? _Damn._

I found a hand mirror in the junk drawer and poured some of the white powder out into neat little lines on its surface. I couldn't do this alone, I needed someone.

My heart rate sped and my palms sweat as I picked up the phone and shakingly dialed Alex. After ten unanswered rings (she was probably avoiding me) her monotonous voice played:

"It's Alex. Hopefully you know what to do."

_Beeeeep._

I breathed in and let it all out in slowly.

"Alex. It's Ellie," I said into the machine. I stared at my reflection in the heroin-scattered mirror. The girl staring back at me had a ruddy face and sad eyes. I didn't know her from Adam. "When you get in, come over. I need your help."

_Do something about it._

This time I was.

**Ah, the plot thickens. I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. Next chapter: Ellie takes a nosedive into the world of drugs. Thanks for reading! I love hearing from all of you. **


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